


ivory and rosewood sawari

by ivyclub



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Prince Nakamoto Yuta, Servant Mark Lee, we're just having fun guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:28:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24330604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyclub/pseuds/ivyclub
Summary: It’s not often a member of the royal family requests the company of another person in the castle that isn’t their aide or their closest advisors, much less one of the servants. Why would they? What business do they have with a lowly servant?
Relationships: Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 21
Kudos: 263





	ivory and rosewood sawari

**Author's Note:**

> told y'all id be back in a month shrugging emoji  
> had a [ banging tweet](https://twitter.com/markieiees/status/1239035132813684736) and out came this 
> 
> i have no concept of time so this is both modern and old timey i guess ?? i just wanted yuta to have a sword for One scene, bear with me

It’s not often a member of the royal family requests the company of another person in the castle that isn’t their aide or their closest advisors, much less one of the servants. Why would they? What business do they have with a lowly servant?

To Yuta, apparently all of it.

Yuta watches a young servant boy flit back and forth from where he’s hidden in an arch in the great hall. His black hair bounces a little with his footsteps and Yuta follows him intently with his eyes. The other servants seem to take notice that he’s been watching one of them, and they whisper delightedly about who it might be. Yuta imagines he can hear their giggles from behind the pillar, telling each other it has to be one of them. 

“Johnny?” Yuta calls. His royal aide comes to his side immediately.

“Yes, your Highness?” Yuta waves his hand in annoyance at the honorific.

“Cut it, it’s just us.” 

Johnny looks up and sees all the servants pretending they aren’t watching the both of them. “It’s not thou-”

With the nod of a head, Yuta cuts him off and Johnny turns just in time to see the servant Yuta’s been eyeing disappear behind the archway once again. “Who is that?”

“Am I supposed to know all the servants by name?” Johnny asks cautiously, knowing to expect a yes. Yuta looks up at him, one eyebrow raised, seemingly waiting for an answer. “You know I don't, right? Why don't you ask the head maid?”

Sighing, he says, “Okay, I will find out myself then.” 

Rolling his shoulders back, he brushes off the front of his robes and makes his way from out of the shadows of the archways, the click of his boots against the marble flooring catching everyone’s attention briefly. 

“You shouldn’t do that,” Johnny calls out, not moving from his spot. “Picking favorites is rather ill received in this castle.”

“Good thing I’m the crown prince,” Yuta shouts back, words echoing from the high rafted ceilings and stoned walls in a melodic hum. 

Through his observation, Yuta knows the servant followed the same path from one point to another, trying to map out one part of the castle to fulfill his duties for the day. So logically, if Yuta walks along that same path, he would seemingly run right into them, almost as if by coincidence, and strike up a conversation. 

He saunters slowly, hands clasped behind his back as other servants rush by him to get to cleaning the great hall. Most mornings from dawn until just after breakfast, the servants do their daily tidying- dusting away the night’s worries to start fresh. Breakfast has yet to be served, and Yuta would love to see the servant’s face clearly just once, just to feed his appetite a little bit. 

His wishes are well received, as right when he looks up, he can see the servant in question: a young boy with big eyes and mouth pushed into a pout as he stares at his hands, a little ways from running right into Yuta if not for his alarmingly fast reflexes that stop him the second his eyes drift up.

“Sorry, good morning sir.” he mutters, eyes focusing on the face in front of him. Yuta watches his pupils dilate and his mouth drop open in shock. “Oh my gosh, your Majesty, uh your High- sir, no Prince Yu-” 

His hand flies up to cover his mouth, eyes going impossibly wider, almost as if saying Yuta’s given name was a curse. “Good morning your honor- no uh Prince sir. Your Highness,” he finally settles, bending in a bow. “Wh- what brings you here? Today?” 

“To my own castle you mean?” Yuta jokes.

The boy brings his head up from his still bent position, face tipped down and he looks around for any other servants walking by. “No no, not- of course you live here you’re always…” he trails off, clearing his throat. 

Faintly, Yuta can hear a bell ring to signal the servants to help in the kitchen for breakfast, and he watches the boy’s head face back down. 

“Thank you for taking the time to speak to me, your hi- majesty, but I must leave. I hope I can be of good service,” he sputters, standing up straight and turning quickly. 

“What is your name?”

Turning back to face him, the servant keeps his eyes downcast. “It’s Mark, your Highness.” 

“Mark…” Yuta says, letting the name roll off his tongue. “It was nice talking to you.” He watches Mark blush and form his lips around words that don’t come out, giving him a nice smile and waving him goodbye as he leaves back to his room.

Only twenty minutes later, Yuta comes back to a prepared breakfast, set up in the main dining hall for him and his advisors, as well as his predecessors to the throne. Normally consisting of a variety of congee, the steaming bowl greets him as he takes his seat at one end of the table across from his father, his mother taking the head. 

Two maids are normally waiting by the doorway to the kitchen, and four servants are stationed in each corner of the room. Royal aides take their place one seat apart from them out of raised courtesy, though the Queen has lightheartedly scolded them for not sitting closer. The head chef normally makes their way out for the first bite to ensure everything is in good taste, before departing to make lunch plans. 

Much to Yuta’s delight, Mark happens to be one of the servants in the corner of the room, standing far enough to be cast in some shadow while still able to make it to the royal family, lest something happens. He’s standing with his hands clasped in front of him, thumbs rubbing against each other. 

Yuta catches Mark’s gaze every so often, only for the servant to quickly glance away, looking at anywhere except the prince. Just because he can, Yuta grabs a spare spoon from the table and openly drops it onto the floor, holding up his hand to one of the table maids who starts to pick it up. 

He watches Mark look around nervously, moving across the room to pick up the spoon once he sees Yuta nod at him to. 

“Why thank you,” Yuta says, watching Mark with a grin on his face. “You are so kind.” 

“Of co- uh, you’re welcome, your Majesty.” Mark keeps his head down and strides quickly back to his standing place. Yuta notices how red his ears are and tucks that away in his mind for another time. 

The Queen tsks, causing Yuta to glance up at her. She only raises her eyebrow in warning, as to say _don’t toy with the servants_ , and Yuta only sticks his tongue out in return. 

For a moment, Yuta considers throwing another spoon onto the ground, just to see Mark up close again, but he holds himself from doing such, if not for the lack of excess cutlery on the table. The servant seems to be acutely aware that Yuta’s eyes are on him now, which happens to be the reaction Yuta was trying to get from the beginning.

At 9am sharp, breakfast is finished and the maids move to clear the table, while the Queen and Yuta’s father head to the North Wing of the castle to attend to their duties. Yuta lingers a little, running his finger along the grain of the polished wood as he watches Mark flit around the dining hall, grabbing stray placemats to make way for the table runner. 

Yuta can tell Mark is trying his best to do his job and to ignore him, something that hurts Yuta to realize, but only a little bit. When a servant asks him to lift his arms off the placemat, he gives them a sweet smile and stands up, finally taking his leave from the dining table. He catches Mark’s gaze one last time before he exits the room, throwing him a wink and staying just long enough to see the servant gasp, startling when another asks for the cloth in his hands. 

Of course after that, Mark is the only thing on Yuta’s mind for most of the day. During his sparring lessons, during his self-defense class, and even during his afternoon tea with his mother, where Mark wasn’t lingering on the balcony as an additional aide, all Yuta could think of was the black haired servant that somehow managed to charm him so badly. He can’t understand what makes him so compelling, he is just a servant after all.

Looking out from his balcony, he watches the gardeners tend to the shrubbery. It’s a temperate day, perfect for a picnic if Yuta was so inclined, with the sun at its highest point over the castle. After noon, Yuta has a calligraphy course, as well as a fitting for their public appearance on the Queen’s birthday in a month. 

But the thought overtakes him, as he sits for a second time at the table on his balcony with Johnny as they go over color palettes for his spring wardrobe, that he should skip that fitting to invite Mark out for the afternoon and find out exactly what has the servant on his mind so much. 

In the middle of deciding whether navy blue or black would be more suitable, Yuta motions for one of the maids cleaning his room over. “Would you mind preparing a castella and some fruit? And send a call boy for Mark in two hours, please. Tell him to head to the East Gardens.”

“Mark?” Johnny asks once the maid disappears. “Who is Mark?”

“The servant I asked if you knew.” 

“This morning? You’re still hung up on him?”

“I just want to know him better. I haven’t seen him before.”

“Sure,” Johnny says, getting up from his seat. “Would you like me to be there as well, or do you prefer a more private rendezvous?” 

Yuta takes a sip of his lukewarm tea, squinting as he looks up at Johnny who stands directly under the high sun. “You can spy from the second floor East Wing windows. Any closer and you’ll be wearing assless chaps for the Queen’s birthday ceremony.”

"Sounds like a good time."

“Sure does,” Yuta says, uncaring whether Johnny means the ceremonial chaps or the picnic date. 

Oh, a date. That sounds quite nice.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” Johnny bows his head and leaves the balcony, exiting Yuta’s room and leaving the prince to dwell for two hours about what he will wear and say to the servant boy named Mark.

An hour and thirty minutes later, Yuta is sitting in the East Gardens at the table in the center of the hedges. The sound of the fountain behind him provides white noise for him to daydream to while he waits for the appearance of his guest. Twenty minutes after that, a maid comes with the castella and fruit and sets it out of the table for him, and Yuta stupidly curses himself for coming thirty minutes early to sit in the sun in his nice linens to wait because he was eager, or nervous, or whatever you want to call it. 

He glances up at the window where he knows Johnny is waiting and stares into it, knowing that behind the opened shutters is the man who has been watching him wait the whole time. Johnny is probably having significantly less fun than Yuta is, he thinks. 

Yuta can hear faint footsteps on the paved pathways through the garden five minutes before the scheduled meeting time, and he pretends he doesn’t notice that Mark is standing in the hedges until the minute of, where he peers around cautiously and tucks his hair behind his ears.

“Your Highness?” Mark asks quietly. Yuta would be damned to miss the boy calling him over the sound of the fountain. 

“Hello there. Come take a seat,” Yuta says, sitting up straight. Mark takes careful steps and pulls out the chair opposite of Yuta, bringing it back as far as possible without being rude or too close. 

Yuta watches him fidget in his seat and look around them briefly, asking Mark what’s got him so jumpy. “Uh, I’m sorry your Highness, but um. I think I was supposed to meet someone here.” 

Barely biting back his laugh, Yuta gives Mark a bright smile. “It was me who requested you here. Don’t be so nervous.” 

Mark nods and relaxes a little, before seeming to realize that he’s still in the company of the crown prince and straightens his back again. “Am… am I in trouble?”

“No! Not at all.” Yuta just about shouts, quickly calming down again. He plucks raspberries from the plate of fruits, trying to figure out how to go about this. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself.” 

“Pardon?” 

"You know, like your favorite color, what you do in your spare time, if you enjoy being here." Yuta doesn't quite know what he's trying to get out of Mark, or this meeting for that matter, but he's already here so he might as well make the most of it. He'll send his tailor home with some leftover castella as an apology. 

Mark fiddles with the sleeves of his shirt. "Uh, I like the color blue. The- I don't have much spare time but I like to… I like reading. And it's nice being in the castle, um," Mark trails off, thinking, and quickly adds, "Which thank you for! The job. Your Highness."

“Oh, that wasn’t me, but don’t worry about it. Tell me more.”

“About the job?”

“About anything.”

With hesitance, Mark talks briefly about what he likes about the castle and how big it is, despite him never having stepped foot in the East Wing until today. Yuta learns he is a family friend of Taeyong, the head butler who attends to Yuta’s father, which is partly how he managed to get a place working here.

Yuta watches Mark the whole time, head propped up by his hand as he leans closer to the servant. When he talks, his lips tug up, and his eyes sparkled when he mentioned Taeyong. His tunnel vision gets cut off by the sight of the head maid rounding the hedges. “Yes?”

Mark looks slightly startled at the interruption, and turns around to see the maid, standing up out of his seat to give her a proper bow. She doesn’t seem very happy at Yuta for stealing away a new servant, and she raises her eyebrow at him in question. 

“Mark has been summoned for his duties. Could you please excuse us, Prince Yuta?”

“But I asked for him too,” Yuta protests, pursing his lips. “Shouldn’t I take precedent over the summons?”

“Her Majesty the Queen sent the request through Miss Irene, my prince. Do you believe your demands lay higher than the Queen’s?” 

Yuta glances over at Mark, who seems beyond shocked that a maid would be so openly defiant to the ruling family. He sighs, looking at the untouched castella. “Of course not, who do you take me as?”

The maid smiles and curtseys, allowing Mark to step first out of the clearing in the middle of the garden, where he bows one more time before heading off. 

“Seulgi,” Yuta calls out. The head maid turns, a smile still on her face. “Try your best not to make me look lame in front of the servants please.”

“When you’re already such, it’s hardly a feat,” Seulgi quips. He can’t help but smile back. “Perhaps you should attend your fitting; the tailor wasn’t very happy to see you gone. I’ll see you at dinner, prince.” 

She disappears beyond the bushes, and Yuta stares right into the East Wing window, barely able to make out where Johnny waves to him. Scoffing, Yuta takes the cake tray and fruit with him into the castle, only slightly annoyed that his meeting was cut short because he still was able to see Mark after all. 

Thursday afternoons start off with Yuta’s calligraphy class, which he resents going to because he thinks his handwriting is quite nice, actually. Shame that he learns new things nearly every day as well, doubling as a sort of linguistics lesson, otherwise he would find every reason to just skip. Out of pity and under the guise of friendship, Johnny sits in on the classes as well, sometimes practicing his own script with Yuta. 

“I quite like him, Mark,” Yuta sighs dreamily. 

“But not too much,” Johnny adds. Yuta ignores him, spinning his pen around his finger as he thinks about the servant boy. 

It’s only been a week or so since their picnic in the sun, the young servant having charmed Yuta during then. He was so polite and sweet to him, and Yuta can just feel that it wasn’t because he was the prince, but because Mark is like that to everyone. 

Yuta, of course, then requested that Mark be scheduled to be present at every meal, whether standing as one of the servants in the corners of the hall, or as a maidstaff so he could stand at the doorway of the kitchen. It was two to three guaranteed hours of the day that Yuta would be able to see, and on good days interact with, the servant boy. 

He has since given up the spoon act and has resorted to straight up calling Mark over for trivial things, like to ask him about an ingredient in the meal that he knows Mark doesn’t know the answer to, just to see him flustered.

Gosh, he's really been charmed out of his socks over this boy, and Yuta couldn't even explain why. He was just so cute, and Yuta felt the need to be near him and see that cuteness all the time. Yuta wanted to know what he looked like right when he woke up, or when he was in the middle of cooking something, or when he was feeling sleepy. Yuta can't stop thinking about Mark. 

Yuta tends to spend his time in the Great Hall if he isn’t in his studies, for no reason other than that he doesn’t like feeling trapped in his room. He often has duties with the Queen as well, especially as he’s gotten older, meaning the time he spends sitting on his throne amounts to rather little in a normal day. Watching the servants was never necessarily a pastime, but Yuta has been known to interact with many of them because he was always sitting there watching them. 

Rumor spread fast in the castle due to the servants. So when one catches the tail ends of a conversation about a servant who occupies the thoughts of the young prince, all the castle is filled with hushed whispers about who it might be. Each of them spend a little more time making sure everything is perfectly in place. 

Someone managed to hear it was one of the male servants, to which the few of them that were there were unceremoniously thrust into the limelight. Most were hedging their bets on Jeno, a nice young boy with a friendly face who got along incredibly well with the other servants. 

Which is exactly why when the name Mark makes its rounds, every servant, including the boy in question, seems frozen in shock. 

“Why Mark though?” Johnny asks. 

“Why not Mark?” Yuta quips, motioning over to where the servant stands, doing his daily chores. 

Johnny knits his eyebrows and turns to look at him as well, watching Mark tip over the entire bucket of water on the floor. He has quick enough reflexes to not step into the mess, but his balance isn’t on par and he falls right into the puddle, knees first onto hard tile. “Are you being serious.” 

Mark lets out a little pained noise that carries to Yuta through the stone walls and Yuta lets out a short laugh. 

“He’s just like a puppy,” he coos. “I’m gonna go help him.” 

For long enough for Yuta to reach him, Mark stays on his knees looking at the watery mess around him, his pants getting soaked. When Yuta is standing right next to him, he lets out a small noise just to let Mark know he was standing next to him before speaking. 

“Oh no, what happened?” Yuta asks, like he didn’t just watch Mark knock over the whole bucket and proceed to land in the spill.

Mark lets out a small gasp as he tries to stand up, foot slipping on the slick tile and bringing his knee back down with a crack. The noise alone makes Yuta wince, though Mark seems to not show the pain. He looks up nervously, eyes glossy and Yuta has to hold himself back from just wrapping the boy in his arms. 

“I made- it’s just a spill, your Highness. I will clean it up right away,” Mark rushes out, head tipping back down as he brings his hands up from next to him to place on top of his legs, wet handprints soaking through the top of his pants as well. 

Yuta clicks his tongue, bending down to grab one of Mark’s hands and lift his arm to get him to stand up, saying, “Let’s get you fixed.” 

Unconsciously, Mark begins to try tugging his hand out from Yuta’s grasp before realizing it’s probably rude to do so to the next in line. He stands up carefully, guided by Yuta, but refuses to move. 

“But I spilled the water though, I can clean it up.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, carefully tugging him forward, “We have so many servants here.”

With a little protest, and begrudgingly having to let go of his hand, Yuta convinced Mark to leave the spill and come with him to the medic. He fusses the whole way, trying to tell Yuta that his pants are still soaked and dripping water with every step, but Yuta chooses to ignore him. 

Instead of leading him down the West Wing where the in-house infirmary resides, Yuta tugs him towards the East Wing, where the royal family's bedrooms lay. Mark tries to resist a little, telling Yuta he shouldn't be here.

“You are going to deny the prince of his wishes?” Yuta jokes, pouting. Mark stammers through a response, trying to explain that he doesn’t want to break rules despite him wanting to not disobey Yuta. Eventually, he gives in, and allows Yuta to tug him into his bathroom. 

"Uh, your Highness, I don't think-"

"Hush, let me find you some clothes," Yuta says before leaving the dripping servant alone. 

Almost giddy, Yuta opens his large dresser to search for some softer pants for Mark. Obviously, he wouldn't have the servant appropriate attire, but he's sure the head maid won't mind if he tells them the circumstances. He pulls out a pair of cotton pajama bottoms, bringing them to the bathroom where Mark still stands, hands gripping his trousers. 

"You can change into these." Mark hesitantly takes the pants from Yuta. He doesn't move immediately to change, causing Yuta to raise his eyebrow. "Is something the matter?"

"C-could you, um. Would you mind, uh, turning around? Y-your Highness?" Mark asks, face flushed pink. 

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" Yuta pouts.

"Yes? No! No, your Highness, you would never make me, um, uncomfortable, ah. Um-"

Yuta lets out a chuckle. "It's okay Mark. I'll be in the bedroom then?" 

At Mark's nod and bow, Yuta turns on his heel to his bedroom, making sure to walk out of the viewing distance from the bathroom door. He rocks back and forth on his heels as he waits, almost giddy that he was able to get Mark this close to his personal space. Only Johnny and the cleaning maids have ever made it into his room, and he feels happy for Mark that he is the first servant to be able to see the space. 

He’s probably overthinking things, but he shuffles around his room anyway to neaten the sheet and straighten the paintings that don’t need to be straightened; a newfound concern for the presentation of the space because Mark is in it. 

"Uh, I'm done," he hears Mark call faintly from the bathroom. 

He tries not to be too eager to see Mark in his clothes, and slows his steps to see him. As he makes it to the bathroom, he sees Mark standing with the soaked pants in his hands over the tub, allowing the water to drip off of the fabric. 

“Sorry-” Mark starts, nervous. Yuta holds up his hand to stop him. 

“Just drop them in there. I’ll have someone return them to you, if you wish.” 

“Thank you. I’m sorry for causing trouble.” 

Yuta feels his eyes go wide as he places his hand onto Mark’s arm. “No, no. It’s not trouble at all. Believe me.” 

Saying as much doesn’t seem to alleviate much of Mark’s stress, but he carefully places his trousers into the tub, wiping his wet hands off on his shirt. 

“Um. I’ll be taking my leave then. It was very nice to see you, your Highness,” Mark says, giving Yuta a bow as he carefully steps out of the bathroom. 

“Wait, where are you going?” 

“Back to work?”

“Stay. With me,” Yuta boldly requests. “I don’t have any more lessons for the day. We can go to the gardens like last time, if you wish. Anything.” 

Mark’s eyes go wide. “Anything?” Yuta nods, his own surprise coming to him as Mark smiles and tells Yuta to follow him out of the bedroom. 

The trek across the castle to the South Wing where the servant’s quarters are seems significantly shortened with Mark being the one to lead him. During the endeavor, it seems as if nobody and everybody is looking at them: no one seems to be hidden in the wings or in the Great Hall, but Yuta can feel eyes on him. It could just be the burden of being the prince, though the eyes feel like they disappear when Mark is in front of him.

Mark’s room sits near the middle of the hall, and Yuta silently blesses his predecessors for not building the servant’s rooms underground. Unlike the ruling family’s rooms, there is no lock on the door, and Mark pushes it open easily to allow them in. It’s small, as expected, but it’s enough for Mark to keep all of his belongings. There’s only a bed, wardrobe, and a bedside table in the room, and Yuta thinks of all the luxuries he has in his own out of guilt.

“My father used to teach me how to play the biwa,” Mark explains, opening his closet door to pull out the cloth wrapped instrument. “If you wouldn’t mind, I would love to play a little bit. I haven't in a while.” 

Almost in a trance, Yuta nearly forgets to answer as he watches how Mark lights up holding the biwa. He nods, lamely opening his mouth to tell him he'd love to hear but nothing comes out. Mark gives him a smile, going to shut his door and then taking a seat on the ground as he gestures for Yuta to sit on his mattress. As he takes his seat, he notices the broken triangle of wood for the plectrum.

The familiar twang of the strings vibrates in Yuta's eardrums as Mark carefully tunes the biwa across his lap. He watches the boy sit up a little straighter, eyes focusing somewhere beyond Yuta as he holds the plectrum more firmly, plucking the strings in time. Sometimes Mark closes his eyes entirely, feeling the timbre through the wood, and Yuta almost closes his eyes too. His sword presses annoyingly against his leg but he ignores it to watch the boy in front of him.

The song Mark played was rather short, and soon it ends and Mark is opening his eyes again, focusing on Yuta as his blush starts spreading. He stays silent until the buzzing of the strings fades from the room. "Um, did you enjoy it? Your Highness?" 

Belatedly, Yuta hears the questions. “Yes! I- yes I enjoyed it very much, Mark.” His eyes drift to the wooden pick, not knowing how to phrase the question.

"Uh, it had broken on my move into the castle. I just haven't the time to get a new one," Mark says, bashful. He palms the wood more carefully, setting the biwa down into its cover. 

Bells chime throughout the castle as Mark finishes wrapping the instrument, signalling the servants to head to the dining hall in preparation for dinner. At the tone, Mark seems to realize the situation he’s been in and rushes to put the biwa away. “It was very nice to be able to play for you, your Majesty. I should be heading off to help prepare for the next meal.”

As Mark starts to depart with a bow, Yuta asks, “Will I see you? At dinner?”

“If you would like to.”

“Why, of course I would. Nothing would please me more.” Mark tucks his hair behind his ears, blushing. He leaves right as a smile splits across his face, and Yuta falls back onto Mark’s mattress, his own smile to match. 

Flirting isn’t the right word in Yuta’s eyes, but he and Mark have been seeming to do something of that sort more often now. Mark will accompany him to the gardens in his freetime, sitting to talk with Yuta about his day, or anything else that might strike his fancy. 

He’s also gotten around to helping Yuta work through decisions he’s been tasked with as a member of the royal family for imperial rule. Despite it possibly breaking some laws or breaching private matters, Yuta has gained much insight from Mark’s perspectives, and he values Mark’s opinion greatly. 

Yuta feels as if he can’t take his eyes off the servant boy when he speaks, fixated on the way his mouth forms words, the way his hands mimic what he says, the excitement in his voice when he tells Yuta about the things that happen outside the castle walls.

Sure, Yuta feels envious that he is unable to frolic among the grasses beyond the castle whenever he wants, but he feels as if he’s living vicariously through Mark’s animated stories of heading to the market on the weekends. Yuta will see more of the outside once he’s taken the throne, and maybe he’ll have Mark be his guide. Every time, Mark will bring back some flowers snuck into his basket, presenting them to Yuta in a neatly tied bundle and the words _for you, my prince_ written on a piece of card. 

Touched by the gifts, Yuta spent the morning searching through his many belongings to find a suitable gift for Mark. He then went across the castle to find a nice cloth to wrap it in, hoping to present it to him after his lessons were over. 

“You seem to be in a good mood today. Pray tell,” Johnny says, walking out of the library with Yuta. 

Yuta grins, skipping a little as he thinks of the present he’s hiding in his robes. “I’ve prepared a gift for Mark that I think he’ll enjoy.”

“Is it a ring?” Johnny jokes. 

“Not yet.” 

The Great Hall is warm with the abundance of sun overhead, shining in through the skylights and illuminating the stone walls. A few servants linger as they do their cleaning, idling around under the warmth of the rays. Yuta walks close enough to hear the other talking servants, though in an echoey room, the acoustics make it both incredibly difficult and simple to overhear.

"I don't understand why we needed the new wave of servants anyway. There have been no changes."

"I heard one of the new servants, Mark, got in because he's a hussy. Word is he slept with the crown prince for a place in the castle."

"You're kidding, surely?"

"Haven't you noticed the attention he gets from the prince? You know, they disappear nearly every day to frolic in the East Gardens. It's something incredible," the servant sighs. "A common whore, right here in these halls. If he's any good, I might just ask to borrow him." 

Right then, Yuta hears clearly the words that just left one of the servant’s mouths. He turns away from Johnny without a thought, approaching the direction of the noise. His footsteps clack quickly on the stone, and when the servants see him, they break apart to bow. Yuta dismisses one of them with the wave of his hand, staring down the one who ran their mouth. When they stand back up straight from their bow, Yuta places a hand on top of their head, forcing it down again.

“Your Highness,” the servant greets nervously.

“Care to tell me what you were just discussing with your friend?” Yuta antagonizes. “I was passing by and believe I heard something immoral.”

“The r-rumors in the castle, your Highness. I- I was only discussing rumors”.

Angered, Yuta pulls the servant’s head up by his hair. “No, you were speaking ill. I believe you had called Mark a whore, did you not? Are you aware that Mark is my personal servant- that is, that he lies just below my courtier?” 

“My prince-” the servant gasps, realizing their mistake.

"I am not your prince. You should pay with your life for suggesting so." The servant falls silent, and Yuta can feel them trembling slightly under his hand. ”Now, what do you believe is appropriate compensation for slandering my royal servant? Should you be dismissed from your place behind these walls?" 

“Yuta,” Johnny calls out.

The servant swallows, sweat beading along his hairline. Yuta presses on. "Or will cutting off your tongue so you cannot spread lies suffice? Did you wish so badly to our Queen Nakamoto that you might taste my blade today?” 

“Yuta! That’s enough!” 

“Is it?” Yuta whispers. 

He steps back, watching the servant fall onto the floor in front of him. Unable to stop himself, Yuta draws his sword, pushing the point of it right into their neck. He jolts his hand enough to pierce the skin, and the servant’s hand flies up to touch his bleeding nape. 

“If you happen to see dawn, believe your luck has run dry. Do not ever speak of Mark again, or should this scar ever come into my vision, I will treat it like a target.” Without a second glance, Yuta sheaths his sword and turns to face Johnny, who looks at him in near horror. 

“Take care of this mess,” Yuta grits out. He leaves the main hall, walking towards the servant’s quarters, anger simmering under his skin. 

By the time he makes it to Mark's room, the anger has died down enough that he can save face. He knocks on the wooden door, staring at the pattern of it intently until it opens, and Mark's face comes into view. Suddenly, Yuta isn't all that angry anymore. 

"Prince Yuta," Mark says, "What brings you here?"

"Oh you don't need to be so formal, Markie. It's just me." 

Mark lets out a little laugh and straightens his face, clearing his throat. "My prince, it's um. It's good to see you." 

"Likewise," Yuta says with a bright smile, stepping into Mark's room. As per Mark’s request, Yuta was able to move him into a room closer to the servant’s bathing quarters, though Yuta doesn’t think it’ll be all that necessary soon. 

He had been considering the thought of moving Mark to the first floor East Wing, where the assistants that work directly with the royal family, such as Johnny, sleep. There are still a few free rooms, even with Johnny, Miss Irene, head maid Seulgi, and the head butler Taeyong as occupants. Plus, Yuta would love to see Mark among them with how close he's brought Mark into his life. 

“Uh… you still haven’t told me why you are here,” Mark says sheepishly, tacking on, “My prince.”

Yuta takes a seat at the end of Mark’s bed, crossing his legs. “Have any of the servants been bothering you lately?” 

“Not particularly. Should they be?”

“Of course not! I just heard some of the servants talking amongst themselves about the other servants, and I would like to know if someone had spoken to you poorly.” 

“None that I know of. A few look at me weird but they haven’t said anything to me.” Yuta feels a nerve snap, annoyed that the servant he reprimanded today had already shown distaste towards Mark. 

Without true thought first, Yuta blurts out, “Would you like to move to the East Wing?”

“Pardon? Why?”

“Well, you know. Perhaps the servants won’t look at you weirdly anymore, or such. There are some spare bedrooms.” Yuta trails off by the end, getting up from the seat to get closer to Mark. 

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly invade like that.”

Carefully taking Mark’s hand, Yuta tells him, “I want you to. I quite like you, and I’d rather enjoy it if you were closer to me.” He hears Mark take in a small gasp. “Would you do that for your prince?” 

He watches Mark flush red, feeling his hands start to clam up as Mark stutters his way through a response. “Wh- couldn’t you have, don’t you have other people to look for? Ou-outside the castle, to have them be your- the person you like?”

“When I could have you? Never.” The words roll off his tongue so smoothly, Yuta almost questions if he's actually saying them. Then, he remembers what he wanted to give Mark before the ordeal in the main hall; the reason why he came all the way to the servants quarters in the first place. 

He pats around his robes until he feels the hard object, pulling it out to show to the servant. It’s wrapped in a dark blue cloth, tied nicely at the top by the Queen herself, since Yuta seemed rather awful at wrapping gifts like this. 

“For you,” Yuta says, holding it out for Mark. Curious, Mark carefully takes the present and unties the top, letting the fabric fall over his hands as he stares at the pristine white of a plectrum. “It was one of mine, actually. Made out of ivory, so hopefully it won’t break on you.” 

“You play? And you just let me do that in front of you?” Mark gasps, holding the plectrum between two hands. “Oh, I cannot take this.” 

“It’s a gift! I don’t- it’s been unused for so long, I would love for it to seek a new owner to be loved by,” Yuta says, rushed and almost desperate for Mark to have it. “We could- if the, uh.” 

For being the crown prince, Yuta has not reached the point of not being able to finish a thought until now. Mark looks at him confused as Yuta takes in a deep breath, never having gotten this nervous to ask something of someone- or this nervous ever.

“Take it, and learn a story with me. We’ll play it together when we ask my parents for their blessing.”

“Blessing?” Yuta lays his hands over where Mark is still holding the plectrum, giving him a gentle nod. It seems to be the first time Mark is hearing of this because he looks more bewildered by the second. “A blessing?”

“Yes. I said I really like you Mark. I would love it if you were by my side as more than just as a servant.” Mark splutters a few times, tripping over every word that tries to come out of his mouth. Eventually, he just presses his lips together, eyes still wide in shock.

“The stories are really long…” Mark tries after a moment of silence. 

“They’ll listen to the whole thing! They have to. I am their only son.” Yuta can feel his heart start to race at Mark’s yielding. “Can I kiss you?” 

Hesitation, and then a nod, and Mark closes his eyes as he stands still, waiting for Yuta. The only thought in Yuta’s mind is how endearing Mark is, and with their hands still clasped together around the ivory plectrum, he bends down slightly to kiss Mark. 

It’s soft and gentle, just as Yuta wants Mark to be treated. He doesn’t linger very long either, mostly because Yuta doesn’t feel as if he’d be able to stop with how nice Mark’s lips felt against his. When he pulls away, Mark’s blush is high on his cheeks and his eyes are still closed, hands trembling slightly. 

“You’re so cute,” Yuta breathes out. He bends down to kiss him once more, and Mark finally melts this time, leaning into him as Yuta pulls away. “I can’t wait to make you my king.”

**Author's Note:**

> a biwa is like a pipa, or a lute; sawari refers to the timbre (the way things sound) of traditional string instruments, like the biwa  
> ivory and rosewood are two types of material the plectrum can be made of !! both produce a different feel to the sound
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/ivyclvb)


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